They played At the Hour
by planet p
Summary: AU; Miss Parker and her team are looking for Jarod.


**They played At the Hour** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

* * *

The clouds hung low to the earth, as though a gust of wind might wash them over the streets and buildings as a tide coming in to land, enveloping a shore. A stony, muted light covered the surfaces, making dull bright; the world a monotone. A distant storm lay herald on the wisps of broken, scattered breeze, dashed against walls, the corners of shops, streetlamps; parking meters. The bright morning was made grey in the unexpected midday cool. Noon lifted muddled dirt and dust into the air at the feet of pedestrians, the tyres of vehicles, coating storefront windows and doorknobs, the windshields of vehicles parked along the street, in public parking lots, the tops of people's shoes, the noses of children travelling in formation with teachers on an excursion to a museum, turning to grit in people's eyes.

The retrieval team had followed Jarod's clues to this city blanketed in daylight gloom, with loaded guns, empty coffee cups – their paper lips chewed – and a single pair of high heels that clicked upon sidewalks.

Maria Croft brushed dark hair from her mouth, standing with Miss Parker beside the cars they'd arrived in. She'd newly been assigned to the retrieval team of which Miss Parker was head, and had graduated as an L5 Sweeper. She remembered the night she'd celebrated; she'd been so happy. The air of this town depressed her, as though it were a weight in her lungs, a heavy hand on her chest.

Miss Parker's voice drew her from her reverie and she began walking, searching for Jarod.

The team met behind the building, then started the walk back to the vehicles. Jarod, it seemed, had once more evaded them.

Nearing the front of the building, Maria noticed the pause in Lyle's step. (He'd been the senior of two Sweeper trainers for the duration of her Sweeper training and she'd learned to pay attention to him; he was her most vivid father figure.) She did a visual sweep of the area, and when she looked again, if she had not seen it with her own eyes, it would have been as if he'd never hesitated at all. They rounded the side of the building and moved toward the parked cars.

It was then that the air shifted and writhed in a strange, unreal way; the clouds had dropped as though they were a tidal wave and rushed at lightening speed about her. Fear blocked her throat as she twisted her head about frantically; the others all stood about her, except for one; she could barely see him through the clouds.

* * *

Jarod stumbled as the world moved and upended, only it hadn't. Ethan's hand on his arm steadied him and a frown of concentration formed on his face. He swore he'd heard an explosion, but only blurred wisps passed by him in rapid succession, the sound muted, as though by a thick layer of water, the sounds oddly echoing, all reaching his ears, but without any potency, and slightly out of time.

Beside him, Ethan had gone still, his expression serious. Through the murky, dusty twilight he could just make out the form of his sister, Miss Parker. His eyes narrowed in a peer. He only allowed himself to relax when he'd seen for himself that she was alright, unharmed.

* * *

An unearthly breeze ruffled Miss Parker's hair and she felt a sharp sting about her cheek. She quickly shrugged off her disorientation and strode in the direction of her brother who she could see standing ahead of her, his left arm held out in front of him, palm out, head tipped back slightly.

Her movements were strangely slow considering that the breeze hadn't even reached a level of velocity where it could be considered a wind, yet, vague objects spun past, seemingly out of focus.

She supposed, thinking back, that she'd seen his raise his hand and wondered why he'd done so, as though to fend of the dust, hold back the storm. She smiled as she thought of telling him that being a Pretender didn't mean he was able to tame acts of nature.

Her footsteps were loud as she reached him, and she frowned at that, not having heard them before, and noticed that Lyle had collapsed to the ground, where, all around them, dust and rubble now settled.

Her frown disappeared at the sight of him, and she knew that she'd been wrong – he _had_ been holding back the storm, but it hadn't been a storm. She felt faint as her mind worked through the mental calculations at lightening speed, ticking the boxes. He was a Reaper!

She stared down at him, expecting the gashes to heal themselves as she watched, but they stoically remained. She would wait; it would happen. She tuned out the voices around her, waiting.

* * *

Jarod seized Ethan's arm and sprinted away. They couldn't stay, no matter what had happened. They couldn't stay to find out who'd planted that bomb, and for whom.

They had to leave.

* * *

Miss Parker reached a hand up to her face as Fulton got down on her knees beside Lyle, brushing fingertips against her cheek where, in exactly the same spot, her brother had a deep cut across his face.

"Oh, my dear, what have you done?"

Miss Parker had never heard Fulton call anyone _dear_ before and it sent chills over her; she turned away from the ugliness and sought out Sydney with her eyes. Were they dreaming? In the real world, Fulton hated her brother.

* * *

If he'd been a Reaper, things would have been different. If he'd been a Reaper, he would have healed by the time they arrived at the jet.

He hadn't.

Fulton held his hand.

It didn't matter that they hated each other. Hate was lesser than life and death; hate didn't even exist then.

Miss Parker couldn't talk. She'd always _hated_ Fulton, but now she couldn't hate her. She'd held her brother's hand when she couldn't. She'd have cried, if she could have.

She thought maybe she loved Fulton at that moment.

In her mind, she held Sydney's hand instead.

* * *

Jarod pulled the car into a parking lot a couple of blocks away, and sat staring into the glass of the windshield.

Ethan pushed open his door and got out. He crossed the parking lot to where a van stood, selling hot food and drinks. He bought two coffees and came back to the car.

Jarod sipped his coffee, his eyes staring endlessly at the car's dials and gages displayed in front of him. He had an awful feeling. He couldn't quite pin it down.

* * *

"He's a Reaper," Miss Parker whispered to Sydney, as she sat beside him on the jet. They were going home; it wouldn't be long, now.

"Perhaps, Miss Parker," Sydney responded in his quiet, calm way.

Miss Parker let her thoughts settle. When she told Brown that he was a Reaper, he'd have the Tower assign their best Healers to mending him. The Center was always happy to acquire a new Reaper; they were the domain of T-Corp. There was that strange feeling he always gave her, she thought. She'd known, she'd always known.

* * *

Harmony woke from sleep with eyes wide open, lungs screaming. They'd been open before she'd registered them, and now she could only scream. She didn't know why she was screaming, but she couldn't stop.

Margaret was saying things to her – the other people on the train were watching, transfixed and annoyed – but she couldn't care about any of these things.

She hurt; she hurt, oh so bad.

Her eyes watched Mo drawing nearer then the screaming stopped. He'd placed a hand over her mouth. She couldn't breathe.

"Shh," he soothed. "Shh."

She concentrated on the sound of his voice; she had to trust the sound of his voice.

* * *

"Argh!" The coffee cup tumbled from Ethan's hand, spilling hot liquid into the foot well. Ethan lifted his hands up to his head. Oh crap, it hurt!

Catherine was so mad; so scared!

"Stop!" he gasped, between hard breaths. Tears poured out of his eyes. Oh, it hurt too much! "Stop! You're hurting me! Please stop!" he begged.

Jarod's voice shouted from beside him, "MRS. PARKER YOU HAVE TO STOP! YOU'RE HURTING HIM! CATHY!"

And then, as though she'd heard him, the pain began to lessen and Catherine's Voice was audible. _You must kill him! You must kill him!_

Jarod's arms were hugging him, but he was speaking to Catherine, telling her that it would be alright, telling her that he'd not let anything happen to Miss Parker.

Ethan's tears fell onto his shoulder. _Who do I kill?_ he asked.

_The traitor! Your brother._

* * *

Miss Parker walked out of Dr. Brown's office with glum, gummy steps. There'd not be any Healers; the Tower medication he'd been prescribed had the potential to seriously endanger the life of any Healer who tried to Heal him.

As she left the Tower doctor's office, she wondered if he would die. If now her brother would die.

She'd hated him so passionately all these years, and it'd been foolish to think such passion would not have repercussions, and now he would go.

He would go.

And leave her.

Just like before.


End file.
